Paper Hearts
by Pleasantries and the Aftermath
Summary: A NejiTenten drabble series of varying ratings and themes. Chapter five: The mission that killed half his squad, killed his best friend, and left him blind also spared his hair and spared his mouth. To Neji, this is gallows humor at its finest.
1. Day in the Sun

**I am a serious NejixTenten fangirl. I may switch who I pair for the other Naruto girls, but Tenten will always go with Neji for me and vice versa. I get a lot of ideas for these two, but rarely do I write them because I don't have time and I don't want to spam people with drabble-oneshots, so I'm dumping all the drabble oneshots here. Tell me what you think, and NejixTenten FTW!**

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Title: Day in the Sun  
Summary: After this, she better come through on that promise of hers.  
Word Count: 453  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto

Inspired by my friend who got sunburned this summer who I then drew that sexeh picture of. LOL. Love you, Natasha! Back to Oedipus Rex.

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Neji hated going to the beach. He didn't like it for many reasons: it smelled like rotting fish, it was hot, the sand dried out his skin, and to quote what he told Tenten, "he didn't tan, he burned."

However, she disregarded his words for him just being his usual pessimistic self and dragged him (unwillingly) to the beach for their vacation time. Granted, the beach was a luxury seeing how they lived in the middle of the continent, but still, did Tenten have to look so happy about going to the beach when he was going to be as red as a lobster?

"You have a sick sense of humor, Tenten," Neji told her as he sat on the sandy beach from under the cover of a beach umbrella. He stared distastefully at the item. He'd have to shift constantly to evade the rays of the sun.

Tenten merely smiled as she basked in the sun's rays. Curse her and her ability to tan. "Oh, don't look so grim, Neji. It's a vacation! Enjoy it!"

"I'd rather enjoy it away from a place that doesn't magnify the intensity of the sun's rays. You know how easily I get sunburned," he replied peevishly.

Tenten merely rolled her eyes. "Well, if it gets to that, then we'll just rub aloe on you. I'll even do it _for_ you. Cross my heart."

Neji rolled his eyes at her juvenile promise, but the seventeen-yr-old nodded anyway. After all, he was already there. No use in trying to escape when it'd take three days to get back home.

Looking up, he was about to ask her about the dress she was wearing. He was only in a pair of swim trunks and under the shade of an umbrella and he was baking; he doubted the billowing fabric of that pink dress was doing her any favors. However, before the words could even leave his mouth, she pulled the dress over her head to reveal the green and orange-polka-dotted bikini underneath.

Dropping the dress on Neji's beach blanket, she smiled at him. "I'm going to go in the water. Be back later!"

And watching her run down the beach in nothing but a (very, _very _nice) bikini, Neji watched her enter the water before hastily kicking away the umbrella to slant away from him (now suddenly thankful this was a private beach and no one could see his foolish behavior) and splayed himself out in the sun to get burned.

Eyes shut to the sun, he grimaced as he felt the sun's adverse effects already working on his soon-to-be-formerly-pale skin. Briefly wondering why he was doing this again, the image of Tenten in her swimsuit flickered before his mind. He frowned as he felt his skin begin to tighten.

'_She better keep that promise.'_


	2. Stupid Onions

Title: Stupid Onions  
Summary: One afternoon, Neji comes home and finds Tenten crying over onions.

A/N: Something I came up with while I was making dinner, chopping onions. It's also a spin-off idea from my NejiTen story that's part of my plot archive. And thank you for all the reviews given so far:** Toph43, fmorgana-bluenausicaa, IheartItachi-kun, and SunshineGirl09. Your reviews mean a lot to me. :)**

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Slowly walking up the stairs, Neji entered the apartment at four. Taking off his shoes at the doorway, he slipped them into the shoe rack, contemplating the way the sun light streamed through the slits in the blinds onto the wooden floor. Bringing his gaze up, he found his wife, Tenten, in the kitchen with her head hung over a cutting board. Her hands were balled tightly on the granite countertop, her body quivering, yet eerily still. For the briefest of seconds, Neji thought she might have cut her finger, but when she whimpered and raised her hand to wipe at her face, he saw no blood and sighed in relief before crossing into the kitchen, standing behind her.

"Something the matter?" he asked gently.

"Stupid onions. They're stinging my eyes," she huffed through her sniffles and tear-stained eyes.

Neji peered over her shoulder, staring at the small, uniform squares of white onion resting on the plastic cutting board. Her knife was placed to the side, some more small squares pillowing it from the board. To his right, he spotted the yellow-orange light of the setting sun dancing in the sink basin.

Staring down at the onions, his brows knit in puzzlement. From what he could smell, there wasn't enough sulfur to make anyone cry. And he knew for a fact that Tenten, the famed weapons-mistress of Konoha, wouldn't cry this much over chopping onions.

Scanning for what else could have caused her tears, he scanned the countertop, taking in the neatly stacked white dishware and the wooden cupboards by their heads. He checked her hands again for blood and noted her knuckle-white grip on the edge of the counter while her left arm was slung over her stomach and gripped the sleeve on her right arm as if to physically hold in the tears.

And suddenly…instantly…he knew.

He and Tenten had gotten married two years ago. They were a relatively young couple, having gotten married at twenty-one, but their occupation rarely left such luxuries as time.

Not much had changed since they became married; Neji was a bit more careful on missions, and Tenten retired from Anbu to take a job teaching at the Academy. They bought a small apartment for themselves, decorated it, and did all the things married people did. Often times, Neji would wonder how he had ever lived without knowing Tenten and marveled at how much he loved the idea of being married. He didn't think he could be happier. Then Tenten told him she was pregnant.

To say Neji was ecstatic would be an understatement. During the first few weeks after the announcement, Neji practically glowed with pride. They did all the things expecting parents did; they bought a crib, decorated the baby's room, stared at her stomach, and picked out names from a book. It seemed like a fairytale made just for the two of them.

Then, _it_ happened. One day, while teaching class, Tenten started feeling sharp pains in her stomach. They roiled and raged in her body; blood began to soak her pants and run thin spider web trails down her legs. She felt nauseous and scared; her students did too. Everyone started screaming. Teachers from other rooms came to check what was going on. Tenten passed out; the last thing she remembered seeing was Kurenai's concerned face.

When she woke up in that sterile hospital room, Tsunade's face was immediately apologetic. Before the words even left her idol's lips, she knew.

"_I'm sorry."_

He had been on a mission at the time, but he was called back. A replacement was sent as he sped back to Konoha, Tsunade's letter in hand. All he could think was that it was a mistake; surely this letter was meant for another Neji.

And when he found her waiting at the gates, lips quivering and body trembling, he felt his heart sink and the world pull out from under him; he knew. He just knew, and it _crushed_ him. Unable to hold it, she launched herself into his arms. Quietly and consolingly, he caught her and embraced her and told her it was okay as he felt the weight of their combined grief. And as she cried into his arms, the dreams of dirty diapers and baby names floated away.

After that, there were the sympathy letters; the quiet pitying stares. They locked their doors, didn't leave the house as they mourned the joy of their life. The crib was put away, the walls painted over; the baby book put away and forgotten. Their house felt like the joy had been sucked out, and only the memory of crushing loss remained.

That had been six months ago. At that time, Tenten had been two months pregnant. If it had survived, they would've been frantically preparing for its arrival next month, and Neji smiled faintly at the idea of a fall baby.

However, life moves on and gradually, normalcy flowed slowly back into their lives. Neji started going back on missions, and Tenten went back to the Academy. Tenten was never the same after that, though. He had suggested trying again, but the haunted look on her face forced the topic down and they never spoke of it again.

But that was months ago. He had thought by now she would've gotten over it, but looking at her closely, he supposed she just pushed it down. Though he had accepted the loss of their child, he supposed Tenten was still adjusting to the idea. After all, she was closer to their unborn child since she was the one carrying it.

The short erratic sounds of her sniffling brought him back to the present day. She had begun crying again, her arms cradling what would have been a swollen stomach. Under her breath, she muttered, "Stupid onions."

And sighing, he closed the gap between them and let his arms wrap around her waist. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he held her close and felt her shoulders relax ever-so-slightly against him. Breathing in her scent, he let his warmth flow into her body as he gently held her.

"Onions are stupid," he agreed.


	3. Cheater

Title: Cheater  
Rating: M  
Summary: Even with her vast knowledge of him, she should've known he'd pull something like this.  
A/N: Just something to gauge how bad my skills have gotten. It was supposed to be serious, but stream of consciousness made it a comedy at the end. God, writing romance is so awkward for me, it's disgusting. Better start reading more fanfics for research.

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She knew everything there was to know about Hyuuga Neji.

She knew his blood type, his birthday, his likes and dislikes. She knew the curve of his muscles, the taste of his skin. She'd known all of this for years and yet despite that, she finds it impossible to be tired of him.

Even as she sits astride his hips, riding, writhing above him, she feels the same as the first time they did this. Her eyes roll back into her head, the tangled mass of her brown hair clings to her sweat-drenched back, her body feels like it's on fire and she's never felt more alive.

She knows his dirty secrets too. He's cheated on a test once in the Academy. He was the one who dared Lee to stick his tongue on that pole on the highest peak of Hokage Mountain in the middle of winter. He likes to spank her and dirty talk turns him on to no end. Handcuffs make him uneasy, and while he hates the color red, he'll like it if it's on her. He also likes being blindfolded.

At the thought, she looks down and stares at the fabric covering his eyes. It's silk-satin, dyed a fine wine-red that looks too breath-taking on him when put next to his alabaster skin. Though he could easily see through it with his Byakugan, he's promised not to. It's her night; she's in control and he is to listen to her.

The power she gets from that makes her high enough that she gets close. The tingling ball of fire and light is right within her reach, so she takes it slow, moving her hips in a lazy pace that lets her enjoy every inch of him as the coil tightens in the pit of her stomach. Her heart races, her mouth opens into a harsh pant. She's so _close_—

And suddenly, she feels her world go off-kilter. The sudden confusion stuns her out of her near-coital bliss, and when she adjusts her mind to the fact she's moved, she looks up to see Neji staring down at her, a playful smile on his lips and in his eye as the blindfold slides down his face. His hair falls in sheets around her, the dark brown strands just as mussed as hers. As the silk falls on her chest, only one thing leaves her lips.

"You cheater!" she shouts, half-shocked, half-laughing.

In the face of her audacity, Neji smiles a teasing smile that she knows only her eyes are allowed to see. "You were going too slow," he answers, licking and nipping at her neck as he moves her arms to lock above his.

And to this, Tenten shakes her head. She shouldn't have been surprised. Neji was always a bad listener, she tells herself before preparing for the long, rough night ahead. Judging by that look on his face, she won't be walking straight in the morning.


	4. Baking

Title: Baking  
Rating: T  
Summary: Konoha's baking famine is finally explained and Ino suddenly wishes she hadn't asked.

A/N: Shameless crack written over two years ago. The new ones will be better, I promise. I just need to get all the old stuff out of the way. But the little blurb on aprons is true. Apparently, because the apron accentuates the curves of the female figure, giving the hourglass waist look, aprons are supposed to be sexy.

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When Tenten was young, besides being Konoha's resident weapons' mistress, she was also a great baker. Every year, people would anxiously wait for those few months a year when Tenten would bake something. It didn't matter when or for what occasion; Tenten just liked baking, and the village loved her for it as she strolled into a shop with a tray in her arms or a covered platter in her hands.

Ino was one such recipient and she always waited anxiously for her birthday for some of Tenten's killer apricot jam and cream cheese pinwheels. Sure, it was a diet-destroyer, but Ino loved them so much that she didn't care.

But that was when they were genin. Now well into her early twenties, it had been just under a decade since she'd had an apricot-cream cheese pinwheel—any baked good from Tenten, actually. And asking around, the sentiments had been the same: No one had eaten a baked item from Tenten in at least five years.

Anxious and nearly delirious from her hunger, Ino immediately demanded a café date with the girl demanding an answer for this travesty. It might have been absurd, but most cravings were. The fact it had been years since she'd eaten one made no difference. The memories of the taste and texture left ghosts on her tongue, haunting her mouth and mind, plaguing her until she would fulfill the aching need left by her craving.

And so, sitting across from the girl as she nursed her cup of coffee, Ino leveled the question of why-why-WHY was she not baking anymore?

Tenten, who had ordered a melon slush, sucked on her straw with a mildly absent expression. "Well, I would, but whenever I bake, it makes Neji want to jump my bones," she explained as the many occasions of tying her apron on to bake led to more messy activities flashed in her mind (not that she didn't understand why. Aprons supposedly were very flattering to the female figure and cinnamon was proven to relax the blood vessels and act as an aphrodisiac).

Unable to retort—because really, _what do you say to something like that?—_Ino merely stared with her mouth agape. Tenten continued to sip her drink.


	5. The Hanged Man

Title: The Hanged Man  
Rating: M for gore  
Summary: The mission that killed half his squad, killed his best friend, and left him blind also spared his hair and spared his mouth. To Neji, this is gallows humor at its finest.

A/n: It's been years since I've updated this, and honestly this is one of the newest things I've managed to come up with. I'm not entirely happy with this, but the past few years have been a roller coaster for me and I take what I can get between bouts of depression. Anyway, enjoy!

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Initially, Neji didn't know he was blind.

The bandages were still wound around his head when he woke up in the hospital. He knew because he knew their weight and feel like the back of his hand, and when he felt their pressure around his face, Neji felt no alarm. To him, it seemed like any other mission-related injury, a mild setback on what would inevitably be a long, wondrous ninja career.

But the days passed with the bandages being changed, but never removed—not fully anyway—and he bore the nurses' hesitant hands and the doctors' contemplative hums with a thin patience he did not know he possessed.

All things must come to an end though, and at last his patience snapped. After all, not only had no one given him answers, no one had briefed him on the condition of his teammates. The last thing he remembered was being surrounded by a group of rogue nin, a flurry of blood and screaming, and the flashing sear of flame. Ne wanted—no, he _needed_ to know that they were alright.

Their answer was a sedative to his IV, and he listened to the push of the syringe and the small vacuum created in the liquid. His last coherent thought was a curse on cowardly medical aids. His last half-formed thought was how startlingly acute his hearing had become.

The real answer came a few weeks later. From the voices around him, it appeared his condition was steadily improving, and it was around this time that he had decided to press his luck. When a nurse removed his old bandages, he stopped her and asked for a mirror. When she didn't initially move, he petitioned her again, and he watched the blurred cluster of colors and shapes that he inferred was her shift.

Seconds later, a mirror was pressed into his bandaged fingertips.

He probably should have inferred something was wrong—should have when her hands pressed his own down instead of offering it to him face-level, when he could only register the weight of the mirror rather than the feel. However, the true horror came when he lifted the mirror up and the blurriness in his vision did not correct, but remained as he took in the multitude of blurred shadows and sheens where his face should have been.

What happened next, he did not remember fully…

Or rather, he could not understand fully. He thought he had screamed and thrashed, shouting and demanding and raving to the shock and horror of the staff outside his room, but according to Tsunade, he had been perfectly quiet, perfectly still. When she arrived a half hour later to personally deliver the news, she had apparently found him cradling the mirror in his lap, which is how the nurse had apparently left him.

The words she gave him were not merciful for the most part. The Anbu mission to terminate a threat in the northwestern province of the Fire had resulted in the decimation of over half his team; it had been labeled a failure. As they spoke, another team was en route to repeat the mission; success was the projected end. As for his team, Taka and Hotaru had also survived, though Hotaru was still in critical condition and pending another surgery to remove the shards of his ribcage still embedded in his lungs. Neji himself was lucky to still be alive; both he and Hotaru would have died if Taka had not carried them to a neighboring province. As for Lee, he numbered among the fallen and his body had already been brought home and buried.

An empathetic hand touched his shoulder, gripping and rubbing in what he imagined to be a kind of motherly gesture. Taka had told her what had happened; of how they had been ambushed, of how an enemy had taken aim at the preoccupied Lee, only for him to push his teammate out of the way, taking the stream of fire instead before tumbling down to the forest floor.

The hand at his shoulder firmed, and he felt the regret that lingered in her touch. "Even though he didn't make it, he would've appreciated the sacrifice you made for him, Neji," she told him, but he could not pay attention. He was lost deep within the murky depths of memory, back to the place in the trees where red and black met seamlessly. Beneath his fingertips, he felt the sweat-dampened fabric of Lee's Anbu uniform as he shoved his teammate aside and felt the agonizing kiss of flame pressed against his brow. As he fell down, he had heard the crunch of snapping bone, and he had thought that it was his own. He could have sworn it was his own…but oaths and prayers were easy things to mix up, it appeared.

What followed was a list of medical jargon that he only half paid attention to as Tsunade listed the extent of his injuries: broken vertebrae—fixed—three broken ribs—fixed—shattered left iliac crest—fixed, but still healing—as well as multiple second and third degree burns to his face, upper torso, and hands and arms. He had taken a fire-jutsu to the face, point-blank; he had managed to save his mouth and chin from the fire, but the heat had essentially cooked his eyeballs in their sockets and sealed his lids nearly shut. He was now operating at 5% of his previous ocular ability, and the sentence hung between them awkwardly. He knew he should be grateful to survive, that he could still see somewhat, but they also knew that what she had given him was as good as a death sentence. What good was a Hyuuga who could not see, after all?

In the typical gallows humor-fashion of the hospital, Tsunade knocked her fingers against his bicep. "On the bright side, you somehow managed to spare most of your hair from the fire."

True to her word, there was a minimal difference in his hairline from before the mission, and his hair remained for the most part a familiar, oddly comforting weight on his head. Unfortunately, it was not as comforting as it should have been, and instead, he felt like crying.

Or at least, he would have if the flames hadn't scarred over his tear ducts.

Neji was released from the hospital three months later. Since his release, Taka had been released and placed on another squad; Hotaru would be in physical therapy for another month or two as they strengthened his lungs again. As for Neji, he learned how unwanted his presence was. His family did not know what to do with him—this shadow of the genius on whom they had begun to stake their hopes on only for him to spectacularly fail them. Family dinners were awkward occasions, and he knew his spilling of soup and his knocking over of plates were tolerated only by the skin of their perfectly polite teeth. As a result, he often walked the halls without meeting anyone's gaze; anyone approaching would only see an advancing curtain of hair and the possible glimpse of a shiny welt of a forehead. Apart from Hinata-sama and Hiashi-sama, only a few family members felt any sympathy for him, and mercifully, he was for the most part left alone.

The strands of his hair skated under his jaw, the air around him carrying the scent of warmed sighs of flowers. If his perception of time was still correct—he could no longer read his calendar and felt too embarrassed to call upon a family member to read it for him—it was May, almost noon judging by the awakening smells of food and gas stoves.

The sound of children's laughter made him pause, the rhythmic tapping of his walking cane pausing its swing as he looked up. The sound was coming closer, and Neji turned his head in the general direction of the noise.

"Excuse me, could you—" he began, only for the clatter of footsteps to grow distant. Behind them, something bounced repeatedly in the dirt road before stilling—a soccer ball? A basketball perhaps?—and he sighed to himself. That was another thing he had learned since his release from the hospital: that despite an honorable discharge from Anbu and an award from Tsunade commending his service, he was a monster in the eye of the public. He didn't need his full-ability to see to know that; the sound of their retreating footsteps was enough. Disappointed, Neji fixed his mask over his face once more from under the curtain of his hair and continued down the road.

The journey to his destination was a lonely one, punctuated only by the chirping of birds and the "tak-tak-tak" of his cane in the road. Over the past few weeks, Neji had gained better fluency at walking around and using his cane. He had even managed to stop the slight limp left over from his now-weaker left leg as he dragged his cane from side to side, but it still left room for error and surprise, especially as he found himself stumbling over a body.

"I'm terribly sorry," he apologized, aiming his face in the general proximity of where he estimated the person's face to be.

"I'm alright, though I wonder if it's alright for an Anbu officer to be walking like this out in the open," a feminine voice replied, and Neji could not help the smile that formed on his face.

"Tenten," he greeted fondly, "am I too late?"

"Not really, though Gai-sensei isn't here anymore. He got called in by Tsunade just a few minutes ago," she explained from her kneeling position—her voice was fainter than it should've been face-to-face—"Were you okay finding the place? Should I have walked you after all?"

Neji shook his head, dismissing the thought. "I was perfectly fine, just a bit turned around at a corner or two. And do not worry, it was my fault for dismissing your offer, but your directions were incredibly helpful."

"I figured you'd have better luck following the smells than the street names. They're mostly deserted around here at this hour anyway."

Lee's burial spot was not in the cemetery, but on a grassy knoll under a large oak tree near the Academy. It was a road not often traveled, and the surrounding businesses did not fight Lee's burial place. In fact, they welcomed it. Team Gai was often their number-one customer, and as a matter of fact, they had often used that spot as a meeting place before training and missions.

Placing the last finishing touches on the offering, Tenten dusted herself off and stood up from the grave. "How have you been? Aren't you suffocating in that mask?"

"It's still tolerable. In any event—" His arm raised to shield him from an onslaught of pebbles, managing to deflect most of them but he still caught a few in his gut. He listened to Tenten chase them off before returning his fallen cane to him. "—the village has made it clear that I am a monster, and some things are better kept hidden for all our sakes," he finished.

Through the thin opening of his Anbu mask—not the original. That had shattered during the mission that had killed Lee—but a replica—Neji could make out the blurred, distorted image of Tenten's face. Despite some physical therapy in retraining his eye to focus on shapes and some improvement in his condition, he still could not see clearly enough for things to be distinct. Still, he could imagine the worried, saddened expression on her face in his mind's eye and that was enough.

When he sensed her hand reaching towards him, he stumbled back, maintaining distance between them. He imagined her frown as she withdrew her hand, instead asking quietly, "Has it gotten any easier for you? Do you need anything? Maybe Tsunade-sama can help."

"My family has been very accommodating, and I go in for weekly physical therapy. Now I see at 8% rather than my previous 5%," he replied in clipped, perfunctory tones. "Tsunade-sama is helping in my recovery. She and Sakura-san are looking into an experimental procedure to stimulate the growth of new cells in my optic nerves and my eyes, in addition to possibly restoring the function of the skin and nerve cells in my face. They tell me there is a good chance I could be back to my old self within the next two years at earliest."

"That sounds promising."

"They also told me that Anbu mission had 'a good chance' of success," he remarked with a bitterness that surprised him.

The sensation of a hand on his mask also surprised him. "She must have entered his blind spot," was the first thought, followed by the bitter irony of the phrase.

"Neji, don't give up. Gai or I haven't given up on you, and if Lee were still here, neither would he." Her hand rested on his mask persistently. "Now I can feel you suffocating under this mask, and I'm going to take it off for you, okay?"

"W-wait!"

But it was already too late. She had undone the tie at the side of his face, catching the porcelain in her hand, and he didn't know what was worse: the fact that she would pity him, or the fact she would run away.

He bore her inspection patiently, imagining the path of her eyes as she took in the shiny, taut skin of his forehead, the clumps of hair growing in fits like weeds where his hairline had once been, , the drooping slits of his eyelids, the scarring of the blisters on the apples of his cheeks. It put Raidou's knotted skin and Ibiki's scalp to shame, and as shallow as it was to say this, he never thought he would envy Raidou for his looks, and he waited for her reaction patiently. He waited for her horrified tense, her sharp intake of breath, the quiet mournful look in her eyes as she grieved the loss of his fine face like the nurses had. He waited for the sound of the mask dropping into the grass and the sound of her retreating footsteps with the graveness of manner of a man condemned to death…only they never came.

Instead, he found her hand tangled in his long tresses and what sounded like a frown in her voice as she lamented, "Neji, what happened to your hair? Have you been taking care of it at all? It's full of dead ends! You have to let me cut it."

With his lone functioning eye, he looked up at the blurred shape of his female teammate with what he hoped was an expression that mirrored his confusion. "You are…not afraid?"

"I saw you while you were still in the hospital, but you were still knocked out by the pain medication. Your burns seem to be healing nicely," she commented, dismissing his concerns with startling ease as she continued to inspect his hair, chiding him for failing to take better care of himself.

Pulling her from his hair, he held her at arm's-length. "Tenten-san, not to be rude, but why do you seem unconcerned by my new appearance? And why are you so fixated on my hair?" He was dimly aware that he was in need of a haircut, but it was the least of his concerns as he struggled to relearn how to eat and care for his burns on his own.

"I've already had you die twice on me, and this third time cut it a bit close, so first off, _I'm just glad you're alive._ And secondly and probably most importantly, you Hyuuga Neji, need to understand that I didn't fall in love with you because of your pretty face. I fell in love with you because of you, and no number of third-degree burns will ever change that," she said matter-of-factly before he found his field of vision filled with brown. She must have ducked her head down, he surmised.

"As for why I'm so obsessed with your hair…I can tell you apart from everyone else because of your hair. I've walked beside it and behind it for years, so I know what it looks. Whenever we're in a crowd, that's how I spot you. That's how I find you...

"When Gai and I were paged about your team, they didn't tell us if you were dead or alive. We arrived after they had wheeled the survivors into surgery, but no one came out for hours. The Anbu who recovered the bodies came back before any of the doctors did, and we waited at the morgue window for them to clear the bodies. Lee was the second one to enter the viewing room…then the third body…and the last one of your team came in and we thought for certain that it was you. They had him covered with a sheet with only his forehead and his hair sticking out and he had your build, your height, your skin-tone—he had everything you did!"

The familiar sound of crying made him reach out for her. Gently, she guided his blindly-groping hand to her cheek, and he traced the path of a tear as she sniffled loudly, an amused sound choking out of her throat.

"But he didn't have your hair. His hair color was three shades too light," she laughed, "And then I knew you were one of the survivors. I kept telling Gai over and over again, sobbing and laughing that you were still alive, and the hospital staff looked at me like I was crazy and kept trying to get Gai to sign me in, but I knew! I knew you were still alive because of your hair."

Placing a hand on his right shoulder, one of the places on his body that had fared better, she smiled up at him. "I know it's a long road ahead, and I know you don't want to get your hopes up in case Tsunade's experiment doesn't work out, but I want you to know that Gai and I are here for you, as well as your family. Hiashi has been speaking with Gai about doing some modified training with you in the compound if you felt up to it, and Hinata is trying to mix a salve formula that will speed the healing of your scars.

"You'll get through this because you're Hyuuga Neji and nothing less, and whatever decision you come to at the end of this—whether you want them to try and repair your eyes or not, whether you want them to reconstruct your face or not—I'll support you in it because it still won't change who I fell in love with. I just want you to do what you feel comfortable doing."

Silence stretched between them. For a brief second, Tenten wondered if she had said the wrong thing or if it had all been a mistake when she felt Neji close his hand over the one she had placed on his shoulder and squeezed, pressing all of his thanks—all of what he couldn't say—into the back of her palm. In return, she pressed her lips to the corner of unblemished skin between his mouth and his chin, watching with amusement as his fingertips flushed red.

"Were you—were you planning on confessing to me when you woke up this morning? Did you plan this all out?" he asked.

"No, not at all," she confessed. "I just went with the flow. Do you mind?"

"Ah…no, not really. It's just…well…I don't…I just…"

"It's alright. Take your time, Neji," she eased.

The narrow slits of his lids blinked. "Are you sure?"

"I've been waiting to tell you that since we were thirteen. I can stand a few more years. Just don't take forever."

"I won't," he assured with a smile before tugging at his mask gently, meeting the blurred sea of her gaze. "I'm not ready yet, Tenten. And to be honest, I'm a bit cold."

"Oh, sorry!"

Quickly, she fumbled in righting the mask, but rather than just handing it to him, she surprised him by putting it on for him. Tugging on the knot on the left side of his face, she smiled at her handiwork while Neji shared her satisfaction. It was certainly tighter than what he managed with his bandaged fingers.

Adjusting the edges to fit him more comfortably, Neji straightened out his sleeves and righted his walking cane. He had to return to the compound after all, and he wanted to be presentable to his family. But before he left…

"Tenten?"

"Yes?" she asked.

"Would you be willing to cut my hair? Short, preferably."

He could hear the dubiousness in her voice. "S-sure! But are you sure about wanting your hair short? You've never had short hair for as long as I've known you."

"I'm sure. I'm getting tired of hiding behind my hair and it's quite hard to maintain in my condition," he explained. He already had enough trouble bathing on his own without over-stimulating the raw nerves of skin; trying to wash his bounty of hair merely made things more complicated than necessary. His recent habit of lowering his head and obscuring his face behind his hair was also degrading, and he wondered what had ever possessed him to take up the practice. His appearance was not shameful at all, and just because others judged him that way, there was no reason for him to think that way about himself. And more importantly…

He placed a hand on her arm and squeezed firmly. "And more importantly, I trust you."

The next week, Hyuuga Neji could be seen training with his teammates in his family's compound, and while his short hair was conspicuous amongst the long-haired persons wandering the halls, no one could disagree with the bounding progress the young man was making, or the fact that he seemed more confident and happier than anyone had seen him in months.


End file.
